Blown to Bits, Robert Michael Ballantyne [universal ebook reader .TXT] 📗

should become its own executioner--should commit unintentional suicide, if we may so put it.

"I have an ambition to shoot a tiger," said Nigel to Van der Kemp that evening. "Do you think the people would object to my getting up into a tree with my rifle and watching beside the grave part of the night?"

"I am sure that they would not. But your watch will probably be in vain, for tigers are uncommonly sagacious creatures and seem to me to have exceptional powers for scenting danger."

"No matter, I will try."

Accordingly, a little before dark that evening our hero borrowed the professor's double-barrelled rifle, being more suitable for large game than his own gun, and sauntered with Moses down to the grave where he ensconced himself in the branches of a large tree about thirty feet from the ground. The form of the tree was such, that among its forks Nigel could form a sort of nest in which he could sit, in full view of the poor youth's grave, without the risk of falling to the ground even if he should chance to drop asleep.

"Good-night, massa Nadgel," said Moses as he turned to leave his companion to his solitary vigil. "See you not go to sleep."

"No fear of _that_!" said Nigel.

"An' whateber you do, don't miss."

"I'll do my best--Good-night."

While there was yet a little daylight, our hunter looked well about him; took note of the exact position of the fence, the entrance to the enclosure, and the grave; judged the various distances of objects, and arranged the sights of the rifle, which was already loaded with a brace of hardened balls. Then he looked up through the tree-tops and wished for darkness.

It came sooner than he expected. Night always descends more suddenly in tropical than in temperate regions. The sun had barely dipped below the horizon when night seemed to descend like a pall over the jungle, and an indescribable sensation of eerieness crept over Nigel's spirit. Objects became very indistinct, and he fancied that he saw something moving on the newly-made grave. With a startled feeling he grasped his weapon, supposing that the tiger must have entered the enclosure with cat-like stealth. On second thoughts, however, he discarded the idea, for the entrance was between him and the grave, and still seemed quite visible. Do what he would, however, the thought of ghosts insisted on intruding upon him! He did not believe in ghosts--oh no!--had always scouted the idea of their existence. Why, therefore, did he feel uncomfortable? He could not tell. It must simply be the excitement natural to such a very new and peculiar situation. He would think of something else. He would devote his mind to the contemplation of tigers! In a short time the moon would rise, he knew--then he would be able to see better.

While he was in this very uncomfortable state of mind, with the jungle wrapped in profound silence as well as gloom, there broke on the night air a wail so indescribable that the very marrow in Nigel's bones seemed to shrivel up. It ceased, but again broke forth louder than before, increasing in length and strength, until his ears seemed to tingle with the sound, and then it died away to a sigh of unutterable woe.

"I have always," muttered Nigel, "believed myself to be a man of ordinary courage, but _now_--I shall write myself a coward, if not an ass!"

He attempted to laugh at this pleasantry, but the laugh was hollow and seemed to freeze in his gullet as the wail broke forth again, ten times more hideous than at first. After a time the wail became more continuous, and the watcher began to get used to it. Then a happy thought flashed into his mind--this was, perhaps, some sort of mourning for the dead! He was right. The duty of the father of the poor youth who had been killed was, for several days after the funeral, to sit alone in his house and chant from sunset till daybreak a death-dirge, or, as it is called, the _Tjerita bari_. It was not till next day that this was told to him, but meanwhile the surmise afforded him instantaneous relief.

As if nature sympathised with his feelings, the moon arose at the same time and dispelled the thick darkness, though it was not till much later that, sailing across a clear sky, she poured her bright beams through the tree-tops and finally rested on the dead man's grave.

By that time Nigel had quite recovered his equanimity, and mentally blotted out the writing of "coward" and "ass" which he had written against himself. But another trouble now assailed him. He became sleepy! Half-a-dozen times at least within half-an-hour he started wide awake under the impression that he was falling off the tree.

"This will never do," he exclaimed, rising to his feet, resting his rifle in a position of safety, and then stretching himself to his utmost extent so that he became thoroughly awake. After this "rouser," as he called it, he sat down again, and almost immediately fell fast asleep.

How long he sat in this condition it is impossible to say, but he opened his eyes at length with an indescribable sensation that _something_ required attention, and the first thing they rested on (for daylight was dawning) was an enormous tiger not forty yards away from him, gliding like a shadow and with cat-like stealth towards the opening of the enclosure. The sight was so sudden and so unexpected that, for the moment, he was paralysed. Perhaps he thought it was a dream. Before he could recover presence of mind to seize his rifle, the breast of the animal had touched the fatal line; the trigger was drawn; the stout bamboo straightened with a booming sound, and the spear--or, rather, the giant arrow--was shot straight through the tiger's side!

Then occurred a scene which might well have induced Nigel to imagine that he dreamt, for the transfixed creature bounded into the enclosure with a terrific roar that rang fearfully through the arches of the hitherto silent forest. Rushing across the grave, it sprang with one tremendous bound right over the high fence, carrying the spear along with it into the jungle beyond.

By that time Nigel was himself again, with rifle in hand, but too late to fire. The moment he heard the thud of the tiger's descent, he slid down the tree, and, forgetful or regardless of danger, went crashing into the jungle, while the yells and shouts of hundreds of aroused natives suggested the peopling of the region with an army of fiends.

But our hero had not to go far. In his haste he almost tumbled over the tiger. It was lying stone dead on the spot where it had fallen!

A few minutes more and the natives came pouring round him, wild with excitement and joy. Soon he was joined by his own comrades.

"Well, you've managed to shoot him, I see," said Van der Kemp as he joined the group.

"Alas! no. I have not fired a shot," said Nigel, with a half disappointed look.

"You's got de better ob him anyhow," remarked Moses as he pushed to the front.

"The spear got the better of him, Moses."

"Veil now, zat is a splendid animal. Lat me see," said the professor, pulling out his tape-measure.

It was with difficulty that the man of science made and noted his measurements, for the people were pressing eagerly round the carcase to gratify their revenge by running their spears into the still warm body. They dipped the points in the blood and passed their krisses broadside over the creature that they might absorb the courage and boldness which were supposed to emanate from it! Then they skinned it, and pieces of the heart and brain were eaten raw by some of those whose relatives had been killed by tigers. Finally the skull was hacked to pieces for the purpose of distributing the teeth, which are used by the natives as charms.


CHAPTER XXI.


IN WHICH THE PROFESSOR DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF.

Leaving this village immediately after the slaying of the tiger, the party continued to journey almost by forced marches, for not only was Nigel Roy very anxious to keep tryst with his father, and to settle the question of Kathleen's identity by bringing father and daughter together, but Van der Kemp himself, strange to say, was filled with intense and unaccountable anxiety to get back to his island home.

"I don't know how it is," he said to Nigel as they walked side by side through the forest, followed by Moses and the professor, who had become very friendly on the strength of a certain amount of vacant curiosity displayed by the former in regard to scientific matters--"I don't know how it is, but I feel an unusually strong desire to get back to my cave. I have often been absent from home for long periods at a time, but have never before experienced these strange longings. I say strange, because there is no such thing as an effect without a cause."

"May not the cause be presentiment?" suggested Nigel, who, knowing what a tremendous possibility for the hermit lay in the future, felt a little inclined to be superstitious. It did not occur to him just then that an equally, if not more, tremendous possibility lay in the future for himself--touching his recent discovery or suspicion!

"I do not believe in presentiments," returned the hermit. "They are probably the result of indigestion or a disordered intellect, from neither of which complaints do I suffer--at least not consciously!"

"But you have never before left home in such peculiar circumstances," said Nigel. "Have you not told me that this is the first time for about two hundred years that Krakatoa has broken out in active eruption?"

"True, but that cannot be to me the cause of longings or anxieties, for I have seen many a long-dormant crater become active without any important result either to me or to any one else."

"Stop, stop!" cried Professor Verkimier in a hoarse whisper at that moment; "look! look at zee monkeys!"

Monkeys are very abundant in Sumatra, but the nest of them which the travellers discovered at that time, and which had called forth the professor's admiration, was enough--as Moses said--to make a "renocerus laugh." The trees around absolutely swarmed with monkeys; those of a slender form and with very long tails being most numerous. They were engaged in some sort of game, swinging by arms, legs, and tails from branches, holding on to or chasing each other, and taking the most astonishing leaps in circumstances where a slip would have no doubt resulted in broken limbs or in death.

"Stand still! Oh! _do_ stand still--like you vas petrivied," said the professor in a low voice of entreaty.

Being quite willing to humour him, the whole party stood immovable, like statues, and thus avoided attracting the attention of the monkeys, who continued their game. It seemed to be a sort of "follow my leader," for one big strong fellow led off with a bound from one branch to another which evidently tried the nerves of his more timid and less agile companions. They all succeeded, however, from the largest even to the smallest--which last was a very tiny creature with a pink face, a sad expression, and a corkscrew tail.

For a time they bounded actively among the branches, now high now low, till suddenly the big leader took a tremendous leap, as if for the express purpose of baffling or testing his companions. It